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    Poetry for Animals
    Poetry for Animals
    Poetry for Animals
    Ebook138 pages1 hour

    Poetry for Animals

    By Sappho

    ()

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    About this ebook

    There are millions of books written about animals, but only two books in the world written specifically for animals and the book Poetry for Animals is one of them.* Of course you may find that when you read these poems to an animal it will look surprised and uncomprehending, but this is not because the animal doesnt understand what you are saying. It is merely because no one has ever taken the trouble to read to it before, and it will only be a matter of time before the animal you are reading to will express its pleasure by purring in your lap, or cavorting gaily about its enclosure, or by gnawing on your skull, or by flying away never to be seen again. Focus-group studies have shown, however, that it is members of your species who tend actually to buy and read books of poems, thus this collection was written specifically with you in mind.


    * The other is Stories for Animals, available at fine bookstores and from woodland creatures everywhere.


    Recommended for Homo sapiens age 12+
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisheriUniverse
    Release dateMar 16, 2011
    ISBN9781462002009
    Poetry for Animals
    Author

    Sappho

    Mary Barnard (1909–2001) was a prominent American poet, translator, and biographer with many books in her repertoire. She studied Greek at Reed College and began to translate at Ezra Pound's suggestion in the 1930s. Her Assault on Mount Helicon: A Literary Memoir was published by the University of California Press in 1984. Two years later she received the Western States Book Award for her book-length poem, Time and the White Tigress. She also published prose fiction and a volume of essays on mythology as well as the original lyrics gathered in Collected Poems.  

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      Book preview

      Poetry for Animals - Sappho

      Contents

      Preface

      The Lizard

      Little Love ‘ems

      Know, Know, Know!

      Algebra

      Lederhosen

      Mister Miserly

      Mrs. Misery

      First Contact

      When Mummy Tucks Me In

      When Daddy Gives Me Uppies

      When Auntie Takes Me To The Zoo

      When Uncle Takes Me Into Space

      Chant

      The Story of Noah’s Ark

      Touching

      Cheery Bonus Section

      Christmas Magic

      Easter Magic

      Postal Magic

      Viral Magic

      Dental Magic

      Epiphanic Magic

      Setting Traps for Santa

      Acknowledgments

      To Rigel, Sappho, and Steve,

      who believed in my ability

      to rhyme every word in the English language

      with every other word.

      Because of your faith in me

      I can now rhyme

      turtle with fire hydrant.

      Thank you.

      If you are reading this, you are an animal.

      Maybe you should get off the furniture.

      Preface

      Dear Reader:

      You may well be wondering why this book of poetry is specifically for animals. It is because, sadly, my books Poetry for Potatoes, More Poetry for Potatoes, and even my multivolume set entitled Even More Poetry for Potatoes Damn and Blast It have not done at all well in the marketplace (I blame the economy) and I have learned from my mistakes. Of course all poetry is for animals really, which you will discover if you recite a poem to a cloud, a fungus, or some office furniture. They’re generally not very interested, and you will probably find that the cloud will just drift away, the fungus will slowly rot, and the office furniture will look bored and expressionless. Animals, on the other hand, are usually very interested in poetry, although you have to pick your animal and pick your moment, of course. I wouldn’t attempt to recite a Shakespearean sonnet, for example, to a bear who is chasing you through the woods, even though the woods are an ideal setting for a poetry recitation. This is because no bear in all of history has ever thought to itself, Because I am hearing such beautiful poetry I will not eat this tasty young person. Poetry is not an appetite suppressant, unless it is a poem about earwax, projectile vomiting, or the billions of micro-organisms that live and breed on your food. Clearly the diet industry would do well to employ more poets, and possibly more bears in order to provide their

      clients with a compelling reason to exercise.

      But I digress. Animals do enjoy poetry, but the animals who enjoy poetry most are the great apes, and among these Homo sapiens are the clear winners. It is we humans who have learned to write and to enjoy both kinds of poetry. By the way, you may be thinking that the two kinds of poetry are poems that rhyme and poems that don’t but, especially if you are a child, you will agree with me that poems that don’t rhyme aren’t really poems at all. (Note that the classic work entitled A Children’s Book of Blank Verse does not exist.) This is because when you are a child and your mother reads to you at bedtime, if she tells you that she is going to read a poem, you know that you will hear rhyming words-every single time. If there are no rhyming words, then you know that your mother has chosen something else for your bedtime reading, such as a story, a shopping list, a prescription, a diary excerpt, or a ransom note.

      (Incidentally, in order to challenge myself, I often write my diary excerpts, ransom notes, and grocery lists in rhyme, which is much trickier than it sounds. Take grocery lists: if I want jam, for instance, the only other things I can buy are ham, clam, lamb, and Spam because these are the only foods that rhyme with jam. And because I am a vegetarian, this puts me in rather a pickle-another food I can’t buy, because the only things that rhyme with pickle are nickel and sickle and, call me fickle, but I don’t eat coins or farming implements either.)

      No, the two different kinds of poems are long poems and short poems, and you’ll be pleased to know that I have mastered both varieties. The definition of a short poem is one that takes under two minutes to read, whereas a long poem can keep going for decades and only ends when you plummet headlong into your grave. (Some people prefer to have long poems read to them so that they can lie down with their eyes closed and their arms crossed over their chests- just in case.)

      In this volume of poetry for animals you will find that the long poems, and even some of the short ones, have helpful study guides or questions after them. Do not be alarmed! Unlike most study guides, these are not meant to terrify and confuse, until the young reader starts slavering like a mad dog and gnawing bits out of Teacher’s leg. (You know what I mean-surely you’ve had the experience of coming to the end of a poem about, say, a girl and her unicorn, only to be asked the question, How did the author use the unicorn as a metaphor? when all the time you thought the unicorn was used as a form of transportation.) No, the study guides included in this volume are meant both to spare Teacher’s leg, and also to provide ever greater opportunities for pleasure and happiness.

      It is my sincere hope that you will enjoy these poems for animals, my animal friend, and that they might inspire you to take up pen and paper, chalk and blackboard, even stick and sandbox, and write some poems of your own.

      Most sincerely,

      I. H. Smythe

      PS: And just in case you were wondering-

      Besides poems

      Both short and long,

      I have also mastered free verse-

      As is evident

      From this paragraph.

      PPS: And like my book Stories for Animals, this book was

      written with the students of Westmount Charter School in

      mind, all of whom have terrifyingly huge brains though,

      thankfully, not terrifyingly huge heads.

      missing image file

      The Lizard

      Young Stanley was the sort of boy

      That you would never guess,

      Would get himself, his mom, the Earth,

      In any sort of mess.

      He said his prayers, he combed his hairs,

      His room was span-and-spic.

      He’d shovel snow, the lawn he’d mow,

      He never once was sick.

      He’d always clean his plate, preferring broccoli to sweets.

      He gave alms to the poor

      Whilst helping nuns across the streets.

      In all his ways and deeds he shone-angelic is the word,

      In math, in death, in lunch, in life,

      Young Stanley never erred.

      And into beastly mischief Stanley seldom was enticed,

      How strange, then, that he’s now known

      As the Little Antichrist,

      And all because the once he was a slightly naughty boy,

      Who spent his pocket money on a plastic, packaged toy

      Instead of butter, which his

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